


Not Good Enough

by foxesbox



Category: Sean McLoughlin - Fandom, jacksepticeye
Genre: Alcohol, Drowning, Gen, Knives, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:57:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxesbox/pseuds/foxesbox
Summary: The Septicegos ask why they aren't good enough in their final moments.





	Not Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back when I was feeling angsty.
> 
> Character Order: Chase, Schneep, Angus, Jackaboy, Marvin, Jameson, Anti

“Why am I not good enough?"

The words come out as a choked sob through the phone, the line dead. Silence followed, and then was replaced by loud crying. Pale, shaky hands reach to the bedside table, skin grazing cold metal. A gunshot rings.

“Why am I not good enough?”

This time the words are said at a desk, the papers on the wood are tear stained and covered in messy scribbles. A headache stabs at him and he reaches for the pills, swallowing them with the help of whiskey.

“Why am I not good enough?”

The mirror shares a reflection of a body littered with cuts, bruises, scratches and scars. Some were made in purpose, while others he claims were an accident. Angry, scratched words on slightly tanned skin and dried blood under fingers. He toys with the switchblade in his hands for a second, before dragging the blade down his arm.

“Why am I not good enough?”

The words are said with a sigh, the muffled sounds of a siren in the background. The cool air runs through messy brown hair and sends shivers down his spine. He stands up, sighing again, and extends his arms. And this time, he doesn’t fly.

“Why am I not good enough?”

These words are said with a sad laugh into a mirror, a tight chain of purple energy around his neck. There’s figures stood behind him, dark, shadowy. There’s whispers of how he’s nothing, he’s not funny, he’s not special. He’s starting to believe them. He snaps his fingers and the energy tightens. He falls to the floor.

"Why am I not good enough?”

These words aren’t spoken aloud, although they’re mouthed silently as tears slip from his eyes. The water has long since turned cold, yet he stays there, not even shivering. In fact, he lays back, head slipping under the cold surface. A silent death, for a silent boy.

“Why am I not good enough?”

These words are glitchy, and at first sound angry. But underneath the layers of aggression hides someone who only wants attention. He holds the knife in his hand as he stares at the screen, and presses it against his chest. He bleeds, yes, but he can’t die. Not like the others. He looks at the floor, where he’d carefully placed the items. A blood soaked hat, an ink covered lab coat, a switchblade, a blue mask, and a cat one. And finally, the water soaked hat of an old friend. He feels a smile play on his lips, although its sad. He just wanted to be good enough.


End file.
